Existent, we are not. If theory suggests, then why bother? Mind plagues, forget your values, taboos, reasons and excuses, refusal plays you into the game. You are an automaton, software, possible hardware (as we know it). The multiverse is a platform, why do you make decisions? Tell me it's you, you know it to be untrue.
Every particle linked to another, infinite imaginings, same pixels, same colour. Ordered by energy, thermal is just a faster displacement, to describe you hollow would be an understatement, the shell of your vaccuumous being is irrelevant binary, coded to withstand your mental prying, pryor to this you thought you were merely dying.
Coded from the outside, holographic inside, universal distortion creating an edge for the illusion, why do we kill, why are we suicidal? No sentient being should be born capable, it's an outer probing creating your mind's capabilities, giving your binary frivolous abilities.
This is a possible song written regarding the potential of our lack of existence, and whether multiverse theory is possibly representative of an outside power controlling us as a game of sorts, holograms in our own existence, projected from the outer edge of the universe, as is the unique pattern of an exploded star engraved into the edge of its life ending energy pulse, every unique oddity of its being coded in the edge of a pulse of energy.
I don't know if anyone actually reads this blog, i suppose that's irrelevent (i've spelt that word two different ways in this blog, cover all my bases so to speak) however i do apologise to anyone that does, for my incredibly inconsistent posts, and lack of anything tangibly interesting other than my mindless drivel, but then, this blog is here for just that, so i take back my apology merely due to the principal of it all.
Copyright etc, copy my shit and prepare to get mercilessly dicked.
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